


Bloody Wine

by spaceisinfinite



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Blood and Injury, I'm Bad At Tagging, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt, Wine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:34:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29902539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceisinfinite/pseuds/spaceisinfinite
Summary: Musketeer March 2021Day 7: WineAthos remembers how blood can stain your shirt like wine.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Bloody Wine

**Author's Note:**

> So this is angsty and bloody.
> 
> And I blame it on the fact that I had painkillers in my system for migraines when I wrote it.
> 
> Enjoy!

The blood staining Athos' undershirt reminded him of a wine he once drank.

He had been in a tavern, shortly after the death of his wife, drinking away his grief. 

The wine had had a bitter taste that evening. A taste that had stained his tongue for days afterwards. Whether that was because of Milady's death or the fact that it was a bad wine, he had no idea.

In his drunken haze he had knocked the bottle over. Staining his shirt much like his blood stained it now.

Dark red, slightly purple. 

Sticky.

He started to rub at it. Trying to rub away the bad memories or the blood itself he wasn't sure.

Suddenly Porthos and D'Artagnan were there, each restraining one of his arms as Aramis went to work removing the shirt and assessing the damage made by the bandit's knife.

Aramis sighed. Nothing more than a flesh wound he told the two frightened musketeers. 

Their faces held relief which quickly disappeared as Athos tried to tug at his shirt again, lost in his bad memories.

Trying to rid himself of his wine stained, blood stained, shirt.

It took them a while to snap him out of it. And when he did, Athos realised where he was.

Not five years ago in a musty old tavern, but surrounded by his friends, his brothers.

Not covered in a bitter, red wine.

But covered in his own blood.

And as the sting of Aramis' needle stitched him back together again, he felt grounded by the pain and the comforting words of his friends.

While his grief and guilt were still there, his friends made him remember that he was not alone.


End file.
